


Hands to Myself

by Dylanobrienisbatman



Series: Collections B [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lite Linctavia, Lite Wells/Raven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanobrienisbatman/pseuds/Dylanobrienisbatman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>loosely based off "Hands to Myself" by my one true love Selena Gomez. Basically, they have sex, and they can't stop, and its just too much for Bellamy to handle. - B (Thanks K for the help! <3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands to Myself

Since  _it_ happened, they had a little trouble being in groups together. They would sit on opposite sides of the tables, far ends of couches, and refused to be near each other at parties or bars. They had moved past the hating each other thing a while ago, but to the innocent bystander it would look like they had reverted back. In fact, the rest of the group hadn't seen them in arms reach of each other since it happened, not that the group new what  _it_ was exactly. (Maybe I should tell you what  _it_ was... to make it easier to understand the predicament?). 

So they had had sex. great sex. mind blowing, toe curling, loud, insanely good sex that made it so Clarke couldn't move her legs for at least 20 minutes after, much to Bellamy's great gloating. And it hadn't been hate sex, or drunk sex either, it had been mutually beneficial friends with benefits sex, as she lived literally four steps from his door, which was why she had stumbled into his room at 3 am the other night, the night of  _it;_  he was simply a convenient distance. She had opened his door, loudly, at 307am to be exact, and with very little explanation, had taken her shirt off, climbed on top of him, and put her hands down his pants. He didn't really ask that many questions, except the usual 'what', 'are you sure', and the like, and had absolutely no objection. The next morning, when he felt like he could ask why without sending her packing, she smiled, fluffed her hair over her scarf, pecked his cheek, whispered "i was really horny, and you were just right there. you're very tempting Bellamy Blake.", and had whisked out the door without another word. And it had been great. Had he mentioned great? Like, the best. But now, anytime they were around each other, they couldn't seem to keep their hands to themselves. Which was fine when no one was around, which was usually, because they were roommates and it was easy and good between them (great? had he mentioned that?), and it had happened many more times since the other night at 307am, but they weren't always alone, and thats where the problem arose. 

He had noticed it when they had gone to a bar 2 nights after the incident in question, and she had plopped in the stool next to him. They were chatting as Raven danced with no one in particular, Monty flirted helplessly with Miller, who kept stealing glances at Monty when he would look down at his phone, and Octavia was eyeing a very broad man with more tattoos then Bellamy was comfortable with, and suddenly he realised his hand was on her upper thigh, and she had twisted her feet around his ankles, and she had a hand on his ribs under his arm, and they were just very very close, and he had whispered something to the tune of "tempting, you say?" into her ear, and before he really realised it, he was eating her out against the door of the bathroom as she literally sat on his shoulders. He wasn't sure how they had made it into that incredibly impressive position, but he didn't mind at all with his senses overloaded with the taste and smell of her, the feeling of her nails scratching into his scalp, and the sight of her trying (and failing, great, remember?) to hold herself together. He thought maybe it had just been the booze, as he cleaned off his face and waited the agreed upon 3 minutes before leaving the bathroom after her, but then 2 days later, completely stone cold sober at a barbecue, in November, so she wasn't even in a bikini, she was in a cardigan and jeans and a big scarf for gods sakes, she just looked cute and cuddly, but they sat next to each other at the table, and she had slid her hand up the back of his shirt and was twirling her nails in circles on his spine and he was pressing his hand into her far hip and she kissed into his shoulder when no one was watching, and then they were in the back of his jeep, and he was inside her, and she was biting into his palm to keep herself from moaning out loud at a park where  _there were children Bellamy_ , as she had so haughtily stated before she had taken off her pants. Hypocrite. 

It had become a noticeable pattern, and so they had made a pact to stay far enough apart at social events so they were unable to touch. Seemed easy enough, until they realised how often they were basically glued to each others sides. They were always partners in games, and they had seats that were unspoken but assigned at the table for family dinners with the hoodlums they called friends, and even during movie night, it was always assumed they would squish together in the larger then normal or needed sized armchair like they had since forever. They were always together, and now, if they wanted to keep this from their prying and overly eager friends, they couldn't be. It wasn't easy, contrary to what he may have made you think. 

"We need to get better at this" she said brusquely, the minute they walked in the door from yet another one of Octavia's holiday parties. She had had one for every holiday she could find this season, Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanza, you name it, she's celebrating it. They had spent the whole night on opposite ends of the party. It had started fine, they mingled, Clarke got into a wrestling match with Raven when she realised Rae had stolen her christmas jumper, Bellamy had grilled Octavia's new beau Lincoln (he was nice, whatever), but then eventually, they had had their fare share of Monty's eggnog (which was really just rum) and found it harder and harder to keep apart. The liquor dropped their inhibitions, and made them a little less concerned with their secret being secret, and it took Raven barging into the kitchen, guns blazing, to spring them out of their stupor and across the house from each other again. 

"Where is Wells Clarke, where is he? Because its about damn time I told him that I wanted to kiss all over his face and i don't see him anywhere" she had said, in a flurry of slurred words and a wave of a wine bottle, mostly empty. Thankfully she hadn't seemed to notice the two of them very close together, Clarke perched on the counter and him square between her thighs. He backed up smoothly, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer, and stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, a little more proud then he should have been at the bruise blooming on Clarke's shoulder that she pulled her sleeve over, and the red rising in her cheeks. Clarke hopped down and followed Raven away, and he buried his head in his hands, elbows on the counter. 

Clarke was right. They needed to get better at it. But maybe right now wasn't the best time to bring it up, because before they even made it through the door they were kissing in the hallway, and he was fumbling for keys, and her hands were working their way from his neck to his belt, and yeah... maybe this wasn't the best time. So he silenced her with a bruising kiss, and pushed her hands up against the wall above their heads, and she didn't say another intelligible word besides his name and some other choice vocabulary for the next 30 minutes. After, when she was nice and out of breathe and he was very tired, he muttered his begrudging agreement, and they fell asleep. 

And they had been better, since then. They hadn't gotten themselves into any compromising positions outside of their apartment or anytime they were around friends. Somehow they even managed to do it well enough that none of their friends even seemed to notice. It was going perfectly, until they went to a New Years Eve party together, and Clarke had gotten ready at Raven's, and everything was well and good and  _absolutely fine_ until Clarke walked into the party in a glittering green dress, that hugged her in every place it needed too, and left her back open to the world, and her legs bare just past where her knuckles brushed her thighs, and he suddenly couldn't get enough to drink, because his mouth was dry and water wasn't the cure apparently. Octavia ran to Clarke, and they fawned over each other dresses and hair and shoes and the like, and then they were walking to the bar away from him and her hips were swaying and his heart was racing, and the muscles in her back were rolling when she lifted her arms to wrap them around Lincoln's neck, and it was suddenly all way to much for Bellamy Blake to handle. His sister had been heckling him about being in love with Clarke since he could remember, and all of this casual, no strings attached orgasm exchange had gotten his feelings into a jumbled mess. The only time he wasn't completely strung out on Clarke Griffin was when he was touching Clarke Griffin. 

So he decided, in that moment, that he was going to touch Clarke Griffin. As much as he damn well pleased, as much as she'd let him, right here, in the middle of everything. He walked right over, and put his hand on the small of her back, bare skin against his palm shooting sparks through him. She may have actually jumped, and he may never let her live it down. He laughed at some completely forgettable comment by John Murphy about something, and leaned over to whisper in Clarke's ear about the fact that he couldn't believe Murphy got a girl to come with him to this party, but he may have let his teeth graze her earlobe and she definitely shuddered against him. He smirked, and went back to chatting with Wells, who had tucked Raven snuggly in his side and was receiving possibly the most loving look the fiery brunette had ever given. Clarke had reached her hand behind her back, and was resting it on his wrist, and her thumb was rubbing soft circles into the back of his hand. Octavia reached across the circle to push him for something he had said, but he couldn't quite remember what it was because she had pushed him right into Clarke and her arm had instinctively reached around him under his coat, and was now firmly gripping his hip bone. She said something about needing a drink, and led him away from the group, but before he had a chance to react, she pulled him into a coat closet. But instead of bringing herself into him, she pushed him off and glared. 

"what are you  _doing_ ???" She accused, crossing her arms across her chest. He kept his eyes firmly on her face, but the smile he broke into at the site of her, all rilled up and a little angry, was making his cheeks hurt. He could have tried to explain it away as being horny or bored or trying to intentionally upset her (all of these had been excuses used by one or the other of them at points during this tirade), but instead, he ran a hand through his unruly hair (he noticed her looking away, she had always liked his hair), and plucked up a little courage, and just fucking said it. 

"I am in love with you." He looked her right in the eye, because this was no time for being shy or playing games. He had wanted to tell her this since before 307am and  _it_ and the events following, but he hadn't and now he was getting his chance. So he kept speaking. "I have been in love with you since about 3 years ago, when you punched that guy for Octavia even after she told you to leave it be. You know how to defend the people you love, and you defended her, and that was pretty much all it took to push me from "who she's so hot" and "what a great friend" to "i want to marry this girl". And i've been firmly living in the latter ever since. And the only time I can really deal with it all is when I'm touching you, so tonight, I decided that, if you're up for it, I'm going to keep touching you, in public, and in private, and wherever else you let me to be honest. You don't even have to love me back, you just need to let me keep touching you, forever, and I'll be alright." They were very close now, she had been stepping closer and closer during his little proclamation, and he wasn't sure if she was going to kill him or not, but he wasn't honesty convinced that it would be the worst way to die if she did. 

"Are. You. Freaking. Kidding ME?!" She snarled it through her teeth, and if she hadn't been so fucking beautiful he would probably be terrified. He sort of was anyway. "You have been in love with me ALL THIS TIME, and I HAD TO PRETEND I WAS JUMPING YOUR BONES FOR NO REASON TO GET YOU TO ADMIT IT?!?!" She was yelling now, outright, and he was worried someone would barge in and think he was going to die. He just might. The fury in her eyes might do him in. "What?" was all he could say, and it barely came out before she was whacking him over the head with her (thankfully very empty) bag. When she finally stopped, she squared her shoulders, and shoved him against the wall, before stepping back a pace. "I have wanted.. whatever  _this_ is, since you helped me egg Finn's car. (To be fair, the sight of her throwing eggs at her exes car in his sweat pants and a tshirt at 4 am had sort of made him melt into the floor). I finally decided that if it wasn't going to be romantic, it might as well be physical, because being around you all the time with nothing was becoming sort of agonising, literally and figuratively. So i just decided, 5 weeks ago, to jump your freaking bones, because I really couldn't take it anymore." His heart was about to break out of his chest, grow legs, and run a marathon. "And then it was great, like so great. Like, better than I even ever imagined it would be, and trust me, I had imagined it being freaking great Bellamy. And then we couldnt stop doing it, and it was just a mess, and... I just.. Oh my god." And then she lunged at him. 

She was kissing him so fiercely that he thought the wall might cave in from the force of  _them_ , because they were an  _us,_ a  _we,_ a  _them,_ now and he was just overwhelmed by it. And her hands were everywhere, and he thought he might die, and so he ran one of his up her back, and into her hair, and the other snaked under her dress to find the hem of her panties, when she breathed into his ear "You just couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?". It was meant as a jab, another game, but he pulled back, and her hair was a halo and her blue eyes were almost black, and he found the edge of her panties, and ran his finger over her, causing her to open her lips just slightly and close her eyes and breathe just right, and he smirked, leaned in and kissed her soundly, and she suddenly was decidedly less smug. 

They may have been kissing at midnight, he didn't know, but they were curled up in each other on the floor of the coat closet when Raven waltzed in on a hunt for her jacket, found them, laughed out loud, ran to Octavia and demanded her $50. 

He definitely could have kept his hands to himself. But why on earth would he want too? 


End file.
